5 Times Sherlock Wasn't Paying Attention and 1 Time He Was
by UnattemptedFeat
Summary: Sherlock tends to tune out the conversations around him.


1.

Sherlock heard Elizabeth come in, but he didn't look up from John's laptop.

John was reading the newspaper in his armchair, "So, Elizabeth, how was it?"

"It was fine." Elizabeth started to walk upstairs.

"Oh, no, young lady." John said. "Get back here. Details."

"It wasn't anything fancy." Elizabeth must have been standing in the doorway. "He took me to Regent's for a stroll, and we got coffee."

"It might not have been fancy, but you really feel like jumping up and down and screaming right now, don't you?" John was probably beaming.

"Yes."

"Go ahead, your father isn't paying any attention." John encouraged.

And so Elizabeth did.

2.

Sherlock was in his Mind Palace. He knew it was late, so he didn't understand why John was still up. From the few glances Sherlock had stolen, it was obvious that John was trying very hard to stay awake for some reason. The detective wondered why the doctor didn't just go to bed already.

The answer came in the form of his daughter entering the room.

"I know it's late, I'm sorry." Elizabeth did sound sorry. She probably looked sorry too.

"Where have you been?" John was very upset. "It is almost midnight!"

"I'm so sorry." Elizabeth apologized again. "We lost track of time. We were sitting in a cafe talking and... That's no excuse, I'm really sorry."

"Sherlock." John was appealing to him now. "Sherlock!"

Sherlock didn't move or speak. He really couldn't be bothered at the moment.

John sighed, "If your father was paying any attention, he would tell you that it had better not happen ever again."

3.

Sherlock was doing an experiment in the kitchen. He was testing the brittleness of human hair after death and being soaked in ammonia for three days.

Elizabeth entered the living room, and there was some rustling. She was opening her laptop bag.

A few minutes later, John came back from work. His footsteps were intent on his armchair, but then they stopped.

"What are you so happy about?" John asked. Sherlock cut a piece of hair into quarters.

"Nothing." But Elizabeth had spoken too quickly. Sherlock dipped the hair into a nitrate solution.

"You're beaming like the moon, and you can hardly keep still." John observed. "It isn't nothing."

"I had my first kiss." Elizabeth said around her smile.

John cheered, he probably walked over and gave her a hug. Sherlock continued testing his hair.

"If your father was paying any attention, he would be very happy too."

4.

Sherlock was on the brink of falling asleep. He was bored, and now sleep was the only distraction available. John was doing something in his chair. Judging from the clicking sound, he was most likely updating his blog.

The front door opened, and footsteps came running up the stair. They didn't stop on the landing, instead continuing upstairs.

"Elizabeth?" John called. There was a snap of a closing laptop, and then there were more footsteps on the stairs.

Sherlock could hear some snippets of the conversation, courtesy of the thin walls.

"I...We...Fight...Mad..." Elizabeth was explaining something to John.

John was trying to console her. "It's...Be okay...Better...Make up..."

Elizabeth and John came back downstairs after a few minutes.

When they entered the living room, John remarked, "If your father wasn't asleep he would tell you to talk to him."

5.

Sherlock was trying to work out a problem. Elizabeth and John were talking for some reason.

"See." John was happy. "I told you it would work."

"Thank you, John." Elizabeth said. "You were right. I just talked to him, and he understood. Everything's okay now."

"I knew it would be." There was a bit of silence as they presumably hugged. They seemed to do that a lot.

"We're going out again tomorrow." Elizabeth informed John.

"Where is he taking you?"

"Angelo's, and then maybe back to his place for a DVD."

"Sound like fun." John paused for a moment. "And if your father was paying any attention, he would tell you to be careful and not to go too fast."

+1.

Sherlock looked up from the newspaper just in time to see his daughter race to her room in tears. He followed her without hesitation. Was she hurt? Who did he need to kill?

He knocked on her door, "Elizabeth, are you alright?"

"Please go away." Elizabeth was definitely upset. Sherlock was very worried now.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" Sherlock was this close to just breaking down the door.

"Leave me alone, please." Elizabeth begged.

"I'm not going to leave until you tell me what happened."

There was only silence, so Sherlock took that as an invitation to come in. He opened the door slowly.

Elizabeth was lying on her stomach in the middle of her bed, face buried in her arms. Her back heaved with sobs. Sherlock crossed the room and sat down next to her. He examined her body quickly, not seeing any immediate injuries. He was relieved, but the fact remained that she was still crying.

Elizabeth hardly ever cried. And if she did, it wasn't some small thing.

Sherlock had no idea what he was supposed to do. For now, he settled for rubbing her back soothingly and waiting for her to calm down. His curiousity was burning, but he knew he needed to give some time.

After a few minutes, Elizabeth stopped crying. She rolled onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling. Sherlock could see the red tracks from the tears. She put her arms behind her head, and her sleeves came up a bit.

There was a bruise on her left wrist. A bruise the shape of a fingerprint.

Sherlock quickly, but gently, grabbed her wrist and examined it. Someone had grabbed her roughly. He turned her arm over and found another bruise in the shape of a thumb. Sherlock was livid. Who _dared_ to touch his daughter?

Seeing the rage in her father's eyes, Elizabeth took a deep breath, "I don't think he meant to. He just got a bit angry. I did too. I said some things I shouldn't have."

"That doesn't give him _any_ right to grab you." Sherlock snarled.

"But it was _my_ fault." Elizabeth said dejectedly. "I provoked him."

"It doesn't matter." Sherlock persisted. "He grabbed you, and he hurt you. There is _never_ any excuse for that, no matter what you do."

"I broke up with him anyways." Elizabeth sighed. "It just wasn't working out. At first it was good, but we've just been fighting all the time now."

"I'm glad you ended it." Sherlock praised. "If you hadn't, I would have after tonight."

"Thanks, Dad." Elizabeth glanced at him.

"If someone's hurting you, whether it's physically or emotionally, don't ever be afraid to tell me." Sherlock pressed. "I want you to tell me these things. Promise me."

"I promise."


End file.
